The Whitest Season
by Tatyana Bulanova
Summary: Life seems so perfect for Linka and Wheeler. They're just starting out, and everything is going so well, except...


**The Whitest Season**

"Will you marry me?" Wheeler asked. Linka could still hear him saying it, could still see him bended on one knee before her, even though it was three years later. She could still see the scene laid out before her. It had been Christmas Eve, and as the final few presents remained, they had toasted to each other with champagne. She could remember so well feeling so jovial and elated that they had finally begun dating. So far, everything had gone so well. In their three years of dating, they rarely fought seriously, and that evening… Well, that evening she felt particularly amorous towards him.

Maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was the holiday spirit, but something certainly had her feeling incredibly affectionate. There they sat, in front of the fire, just the two of them, as they opened their last presents under the tree in the Crystal Chamber. The others had joined them for a while, but had already opened their presents, and felt the need to give Linka and Wheeler some romantic time together. It was nearly midnight, Linka could remember. She could even remember the smell of the champagne and the way the bubbles tickled her as they went down.

As she cuddled to him, he reached forward with one last, big box that was to her from him, and gave it to her, grinning from ear to ear. Linka giggled, feeling a little bit tipsy, and took it from him. She opened it gently so as not to tear the beautiful wrapping and placed it aside to reuse for some other occasion. Inside the box had been another box, smaller. She peered at Wheeler curiously, and opened that box. This box had revealed yet another box, just as beautifully wrapped. She scoffed at Wheeler's pranks and grinned. This joke went on a few more boxes until the final box was so small she thought surely this had to be the actual gift.

As she opened it, Wheeler was smiling at her in the dim, crackling firelight. Her delicate hands grasped the box gently, and began to peel away the wrapping paper. At last, the paper was off and a small, velvet, black box remained. "Go on, open it," he had coaxed her. She remembered feeling so nervous, a flutter in her stomach. As she opened it, the remaining firelight, dim and flickering as it was, caught the diamond ensemble beautifully, and she gasped. "Will you marry me?" She heard him saying it again inside her head. And now, nearly a year from that moment had passed, and she was eight and a half months pregnant with their first child. She wasn't sure what had reminded her of that evening.

Perhaps it was the snow. It had been snowing then, and it was snowing now. The streets were covered in it with a light dusting still falling from the sky. Or perhaps it was the holiday season rolling back around that reminded her. It was the hustling and bustling of New York's busy citizens out on the streets, talking and doing Christmas shopping, that brought her back to the present time and out of her reveries. The decorations in the stores and outside reminded her very quickly Christmas was coming soon.

They were only a few weeks away from celebrating their first anniversary, and even more, the baby was due a few days after Christmas. Linka had been feeling exceptionally tired the past few days and Wheeler could not help feeling guilty. He had insisted upon taking her back to New York for the day, where he took her to dinner, and, afterwards, shopping. They had just left Macy's and Wheeler was insisting on helping Linka carry some of her many bags. With both of their bellies full from a lovely meal, and both of their arms full from a lovely shopping trip, Linka and Wheeler began to make their way back to the Geocruiser.

"So, did you have a good time, babe?" Wheeler asked, smiling.

"Oh, da, konyechno! This has been a wonderful evening," she cooed back. Wheeler smiled at her.

"Good, that's what I wanted to hear."

"Thank you for taking me out. I did really enjoy it, but I cannot lie; I am looking very forward to going back home and getting off these swollen feet for a little while, too." Wheeler laughed.

"Aww, don't worry, babe. I'll give 'em a real nice massage and you can soak them in some hot water." Linka smiled dreamily at this idea. Suddenly, a screech of tires on pavement halted them as they turned to see a car zooming down the street towards them. Linka peered at the car incredulously as it sped their way.

"Bozhe moy!"

"New York drivers," Wheeler said, grinning ruefully. "What can I say?"

A spray of loud claps suddenly filled the air, Linka still unsure just how many. She covered her assaulted ears, bringing her heavily weighed-down arms up, clad in Macy's bags. The car sped away, and all that remained were frantic screams from the people out on the sidewalks. She looked down and Wheeler was lying on the ground in the snow. The baby clothes they had just bought for their upcoming son were strewn about beside him.

"Oh, my God!" She cried, rushing to him on her knees. She bent down and cradled him. Thick, red blood was prominent against the stark white snow where he lay. "Wheeler!" She held him to her, rocking him gently, holding on tightly to him. "Oh, Wheeler, no!"

"Linka…" he said. "Linka, you're going to be a great mother. You're going to do just fine. You will take good care of James, I know you will."

"What? What do you mean, honey?" she asked as hot tears strolled down her cheeks and melted the snow below as they dripped. But Wheeler did not answer. "Wheeler?" Linka asked, frantic. For a while, time stood still. The people disappeared from the sidewalks, the cars from the streets. Everything slowly faded until all that was left were Linka and Wheeler. And on that cold, December evening, Wheeler died, right there in Linka's arms. How could this happen? They were just beginning their new lives together. They were just starting a family. Two other people, neither of which were the intended target, also lay dead close by, and seven more wounded by the spray of bullets, all meant for a gang rival that got away.

Yes, it took a long time for Linka to cope with this extreme loss, but time did not stand still. Christmas came again, and Linka celebrated her anniversary alone, crying herself to exhaustion several times. Not even the others could ease her grief. And a few days later, just as predicted, Wheeler's belated Christmas gift arrived at 2:04 a.m. in a hospital in Manhattan. As James grew, Linka could see in him the face of his father, the man she had loved so much, who was unable to be with her as she had given birth. It reminded her how much she missed him, and sometimes it was hard to even look at her son without breaking into tears, but she focused all of her love on this boy. Wheeler was right, she has taken very good care of James, and she always will.


End file.
